


In Twenty Years' Time

by Nagem



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagem/pseuds/Nagem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can change in twenty years, but that isn't nearly enough time to quench the fire still burning in the long-fired Youth Minister.</p><p>
  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/452330/chapters/775904">The sequel to Sin Tastes Like Heaven</a>
</p><p>If you're looking for an update, I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A lot had changed in twenty years.

Unlike the summer weather he had last seen, Gerard Way was welcomed with a freezing breeze that made his cheeks burn. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to walk down the lone street, doubting himself with each step.

The long-fired Youth Minister didn't know where to go. The place around him had changed so much; he could barely recognize the surrounding buildings. The church still stood tall in its original spot, and the passionate preacher popped up in his mind. No doubt he was keeping the church going strong, even in his gaining age.

He paused in mid-step and turned to look at the said church. He wanted to go up to the front doors and fling them open, announcing at the top of his lungs that he was back and better than ever. But, then again, the last time he had stepped foot in the church, he was later carted away in a police cruiser. Gerard slowly frowned and wrapped his arms around himself, starting to walk down the street again.

He had no idea where to go. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with his life at this point. He didn't know if he had an apartment to go back to. He didn't even know if he had _someone_ to go back to.

Frank Iero had stopped visiting him a little bit after the seven year mark. The two of them didn't have a dramatic or tearful goodbye. There weren't even any goodbyes or promises exchanged. Frank's last visit was the same as any other visit. He hadn't acted any different, and he hadn't left with anything different. He had departed with his usual kiss and 'I love you'. But Frank hadn't come back the next day. Or the next day after that. He hadn't returned for thirteen years.

Had the then twenty-three-year-old find someone better than Gerard? Did he simply feel like he was a burden and just couldn't be bothered to visit him every day?

Gerard tightened the scarf around his neck and squinted his eyes at the sidewalk below him. He had specifically told Frank to keep visiting him, keep giving him that familiar sensation of hope, love. But he had decided to disregard it and throw it away like it was nothing to begin with. Was he really this disposable? Gerard took a deep breath and stopped walking. He roughly rubbed his eyes with the sides of his hands, wiping the tears away quickly.

He raised up his head and looked ahead. He furrowed his brow and bit down on his chapped lower lip. "Where the hell am I going?" he asked himself, raising up a hand to push his hair back.

He had just passed the church, and he remembered that a small arts and crafts shop used to reside by it. He used to go in there once a week to gather up more supplies for his own creative endeavors. But now, there wasn't an arts and crafts shop. Gerard puffed out air and walked over to the small building, pressing his forehead against the glass of the display window. He narrowed his eyes and cupped his hands around his face, peering in.

The walls that were once lined with cluttered shelves of art supplies were now bare. Not one shelf, counter, filer, _anything_ covering the walls. The counter that held the smaller items as well as the cash register were also gone. The whole building was empty and bare. It was like a ghost town in there.

Gerard frowned and slowly pulled back from the window. He looked up above the door, recognizing the faint shape of the logo still present on the wall. Gerard took a deep breath and stepped back. He turned his head, seeing an 'available for lease' sign in the corner of the window. A pang of sadness struck him, then. If a small feeble shop like this one had disappeared in the time that he was gone, what else had changed? What else had disappeared? What else had got up and went off?

Gerard closed his eyes and let out a straggled breath, pressing a hand against his chest. He shook his head and turned, looking across the street. His shoulders slackened, then, and the ends of his lips slowly curled into a smile. He turned fully towards the opposite street and hung his arms at his sides.

Across the street was a small bakery. The exterior was nothing extravagant—it would have been easily overlooked to someone who had passed it everyday, who had seen it everyday, or often enough. But not Gerard. He could have never overlooked this. As if God wanted to answer his pondering questions, Gerard was guided towards the bakery. He eyed the ' _iero's_ ' sign in the display window with a long-lost smile.

He pushed into the shop and took a hopeful step forward. The bell above the door chimed, signaling his arrival. Gerard walked slowly in, hearing the door close softly behind him. He turned his head, observing his surroundings. Just like the outside, the inside wasn't attention-pulling in any way. There were booths littering the walls of the bakery, small tables tucked in between them. A couple people were scattered throughout the shop, eating and talking amongst themselves. Gerard continued to smile as he swept the bakery. He had soon made it to the middle of the bakery, where the displays of the baked goods and pastries were. At the front of the counter was the cash register along with a small man working behind it. He had on a simple white t-shirt along with a gray cardigan. His hair was dark and shoulder-length, pulled back behind his ears. He was staring at the cash register with a furrowed brow. Gerard's eyes widened, and he took a careful step forward. He pulled his hands to his chest and tilted his head to the side. "Frank?"

The man slowly raised up his head, looking in Gerard's direction. He studied the other for the longest time before widening his own eyes. "G-Gerard?" he spat out, taking a step away from the register.

Not wanting Frank to move any, Gerard hurried over to the counter, practically laying across it as he reached for shorter's face. "Oh, my goodness, Frank, I missed you so much." He glided his fingertips along Frank's cheek, who pushed his hand away. He gave Gerard a confused look before shaking his head, dropping it almost as soon as it appeared.

"I missed you, too."

Gerard smiled and pressed his stomach against the counter more, wanting to crawl over it, wanting to be with Frank. He reached out his hand again, touching his arm, then. He squeezed. "It's been so long," he said softly. He rubbed Frank's arm, looking down.

Frank glanced around the bakery before grabbing Gerard's wrist. He pulled it away and guided it back over to Gerard's chest. He stared at the other for a couple seconds before shaking his head. He looked down and pushed the strands of hair that had escaped back behind his ears. "We need to set a couple things straight," he started.

Gerard nodded. "Yes, we do," he said, jumping in. He gave Frank a smile before looking behind him. He looked back over. "We should catch up. Maybe after you're done here? Yeah?" He studied him. Gerard could barely contain himself. There was Frank, standing right in front of him, alive and well. He wanted to reach over and grab the other, swinging him around in the air and never let him go.

Frank watched Gerard before giving a small smile. "Sure, that sounds nice." He slowly looked down and off to the side. "I get off at five. Come back, then?"

Gerard gave another smile and nodded. "Okay, Frank." He backed up and spun around, heading towards the bakery's door. He slipped outside and leaned against the wall. He dug his heels into the pavement and took a deep breath, smelling the icy air and the faint scents of icing and cake mix. He wrapped his arms around himself. Frank was back in his life.

 

Gerard reached across the table and took a napkin. He wiped away stray crumbs from his lips and crumpled it into his fist. He looked over at Frank across from him and gave him a small smile. "That was really good."

Frank looked up after wiping his own mouth. He pushed his hair back and gave him a smile in return. "I'm sure Dad will be glad to hear that." He looked out of the window, then.

The bakery had officially closed half an hour ago, and only Frank and Gerard were sitting at a booth, now. Gerard turned his head, studying the other opposite him. Frank's long hair framed his face well and made him look mature, if that was even possible. He still had a youthful look to his face, despite being locked up in a reparative therapy camp a few years back. Gerard bit his lip and looked down. That was his fault.

He shook his head and looked up at Frank. "So, how have you been? Doing anything eventful?"

Frank looked over at Gerard, then, turning away from the window. He shrugged. "Not really. I've just been helping Dad with the bakery. He started it a few years back, after Mom got sick." He nodded.

Gerard furrowed his brow. "Your mom got sick?"

Frank nodded again. "Yeah, sorry. I forgot you didn't know. But, yeah, she got, like, breast cancer. She's recovering, but it done quite a number on her health." He scrunched up his nose.

Gerard studied him before looking down at the table. He brushed away crumbs, nibbling on his lip. "Is that why you stopped visiting?" he blurted out before he could think. His eyes widened, and he looked up at Frank. "No, no, I didn't mean to say that."

Frank shook his head. "No, it's okay. I knew this would pop up." He bowed his head and took a deep breath. "Gerard, there's something that you have to understand." He put a hand on the table, making gestures as he talked. Gerard watched his fingers move, wanting to grab it, but he resisted.

"I didn't want to stop visiting. I really wanted to continue, but something stopped me. First of all, you will not believe how terrible reparative therapy is. I know I told you before that I got shocked and all that, but when I wasn't showing any improvement, they switched to the drugs. And those were just terrible." He looked down and roughly swallowed. He shook his head and kept his gaze on the table. "Throughout, Brendon tried to help me live with it and try to conquer it with love and hope and all that, like he had done with Ryan, but." He stared at his fingers and pulled his hands under the table. Frank took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked up at Gerard, meeting his gaze with wide, shining eyes.

"I'm not as strong as Brendon."


	2. Chapter 2

_"I-I can't do t-this anymore, B-Brendon. I-I can't…"_

_"Yes, you can!"_

_"N-No…"_

_Brendon Urie dropped to his knees in front of the crying young adult and reached out, cupping his face in his hands. He held it steady and stroked his cheek. "Yes, you can, Frank." The brunette raised up his head, eyes shining with fresh tears. Brendon nodded and smiled. "I have faith in you."_

_Frank shook his head and looked down. "It hurts, Brendon," he muttered, shutting his eyes._

_The other frowned and pushed Frank's hair back. "I know it does, honey." He stood up and walked over, sitting down beside him. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling Frank into his chest. "The drugs are the worst," he says quietly, more to himself than anything else._

_Frank looked ahead and shook his head again. He took a deep breath. "I-I don't know if I can do this anymore, Brendon." He bowed his head and clenched his fists. "What you told me to do isn't working."_

_Brendon's face fell, and he looked down at the carpet. He bit his lip. "It worked for me," he replied, looking over at the door across the hallway, the door that had a little note card that read 'Ross' on it._

_Frank sat up and pushed his hair back, roughly swallowing. "I'm not as strong. I'm not you."_

 

Gerard pushed the door to his apartment unit open. He looked around the place, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. He took a step in and slowly breathed in. Gerard turned and started into the bedroom, opening the door as he approached it. He made his way over to his desk and reached out a hand, opening up a drawer. He began to riffle through the papers, seeing some sketches he had done when he was bored. He smiled a bit, remembering the memories associated with them. He bit his lip and turned his head, staring at his bedside table. Gerard walked over and sat down on his bed. He reached over and took the picture frame next to the lamp. He stared at it, running a thumb along the edge.

It was of Frank and himself. Frank's face was all scrunched up, and his hand was covering part of his face. Gerard had managed to press his lips against his cheek, smiling against his skin. Anybody could tell that Gerard had taken it himself. The black-head could feel his breath hitch in his throat as he touched the picture with a couple fingertips. He roughly swallowed and shook his head. He extended his arm, putting the photograph where it was last at. He bit his lip and pulled his arm back towards his chest. He kept his gaze on the small frame before letting out a shaky breath and looking down.

It was always a strange thought that even though the people in the picture change, the actual picture never did. The moment, the memory, everything that held the picture never changed. It was still in tact. It was still preserved.

Gerard took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked ahead and wrapped his arms around himself, falling onto his side. He stared at the wall before squeezing his eyes shut. He stayed there in silence for several minutes before it was interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. He furrowed his brow and moved around on the bed. He shoved his hand into his pocket and drew out his phone. He stared at it before glancing at the display screen. Frank's name flashed on it. A smile found its way onto his face. It was a wonder how Frank kept his number through all of these years. He shook his head, flipping open his phone and reading the message.

_'Hey, look, I'm really sorry. I didn't plan for this to happen. It just did. I hope you can forgive me. I really want to keep being friends with you. That was one of the things I enjoyed while we were together. Please think about it.'_

Gerard stared at the message for a while, letting it slowly sink in. He narrowed his eyes. "I didn't plan for this to happen," he read quietly. "It just did." He slowly sighed and closed his eyes. He stayed still for a couple of seconds, trying to calm down. He shook his head again and looked back at this phone. He roughly pressed the 'reply' button.

_'Something like that doesn't 'just happen', Frank. How dare you even tell me that.'_

Frank immediately texted back.

_'But it did. I don't know what you're playing at, Gerard, but I'm being completely honest.'_

_'You just can't suddenly switch your sexuality, Frank! You can't wake up one day and be all, "huh, I'm feeling straight today". That's not how it works, Frank.'_

_'That's not what I was told.'_

And there it was: the whole reason why they were in that situation. The reason why Frank stopped visiting him. The reason why Frank completely changed—to Gerard at least. The reason why _everything_ had changed.

_'Frank, you have to understand, everything what those people told you were lies. Do you understand me?'_

_'No, they weren't. Through the therapy, I became a better me. Even though I was in pain, God helped me go through it, and the difficult years of transitioning back into normal life after. I owe everything to Him, and you should know why. You were a man of God.'_

Gerard placed his phone on his chest and raised his hands up to his eyes, pressing his palms against them. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his anger. He bit his lip and carefully picked up his phone.

_'What about Brendon? Last I heard he and Ryan were still together, even through the whole 'therapy' environment.'_

_'I don't talk to Brendon anymore.'_

Gerard breathed out. "Of course you don't," he muttered. Another message came in before he had time to reply.

_'I had to purge myself of all the negative things from my life. He just happened to be one of them. He'll understand why I had to do it, though, in a matter of time.'_

_'Then why do you still want me in your life?'_

_'I still want to be friends.'_

Gerard shook his head and pressed his face into his pillow. He stayed like that for several minutes, mind swarming with various things he could tell the other. How could have Frank changed this much in just two decades? Those reparative therapy camps were the worst things on the planet. Finally, Gerard sat up in bed and pushed his hair back. He situated himself on the bed and held his phone carefully in both of his hands.

_'I don't think I can do that, Frank. Please, delete this number. Goodbye.'_

Gerard read over his message a couple times before clicking send. He lowered his head and swallowed, biting his lip. He turned his head and looked over at his bedside table. He stared at the photograph before narrowing his eyes. He slid out of bed and walked over, picking up the picture and pushing it down against the smooth surface. He studied it for a second or two before taking a deep breath. He sat back down on the bed and held his head in his hands.

He had no idea what to do now. What _was_ there to do? Gerard lifted up his head and looked ahead at the wall. He didn't know what he was going to do in the future, but one thing was certain—he had to see Brendon.


	3. Chapter 3

Gerard clutched the scrap piece of paper in his fist and took a deep breath. He looked up and ahead at the door in front of him. According to a quick Google search and a couple hours trying to find the place, he had arrived at a small house in a quaint neighborhood that looked all-too friendly. Each house was surrounded by a white picket fence, and Gerard couldn't help but feel as if he stumbled onto an old '50s sitcom. He had not had any one-on-one conversations with Brendon—Frank had brought him along to a couple of his visits to the prison, but Gerard never had the opportunity to connect with Brendon. Even though they had only short conversations, Gerard could see Brendon living in a place like this.

Gerard took a deep breath and reached out a hand, knocking on the front door. He took a step back and stared, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket. He crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. A couple seconds passed before the front door opened, and someone poked their head out. Gerard half-smiled, recognizing Brendon almost immediately. He hadn't changed that much. He still had the pushed-back brunette hair and thick black glasses on his face. He gave Gerard a big smile after staring at him for a bit. "Gerard! Is that you?" He straightened up and held the door open for him. "You look young!"

The other shook his head and took a step into the house. "I'm forty-three, Brendon. I don't think that's young." Gerard walked further into the house, looking around carefully. He held his arms at his sides.

Brendon clicked his tongue. "You're only as young as you feel." He closed the door and walked past Gerard, turning his head to stare at him. "How young do you feel?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

Gerard laughed a bit, looking down. "Not very young."

Brendon shook his head and sat down at the table, crossing his legs. "That's not very good." He frowned and pursed his lips a bit. Before Gerard could say anything else, he waved a hand, moving around. "Why are you here?" he asked him, smiling at him again.

Gerard watched Brendon before shrugging. "I don't really know," he began. He walked over to the table, too, and plopped down opposite him. He stared at Brendon before pressing a palm against the table top. "I guess I just wanted to… chat." He looked at Brendon, studying him. He shrugged again. "It's been weird, you know, transitioning back into normal life."

Brendon's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Really, now. I figured it would be pretty difficult, even for you."

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brow.

"I mean, you don't exactly have anybody right now, right?" Gerard stared at Brendon, which made him began to gesture his hands wildly. "Like, I don't know, Frank's not there, right?"

Gerard looked down and curled his fingers against the tabletop. "How did you figure that out?"

Brendon slightly smiled. "I only figured he would blow you off since he blew me off."

He took a deep breath and tapped his fingertips into the tabletop. "Yeah, I actually wanted to talk to you about that." He lifted up his head, staring at Brendon. "What made him change? I mean, what happened during camp?" He turned his head, looking ahead. He furrowed his brow again. He looked back at Brendon. "Where's Ryan?"

Brendon gave a soft smile and looked down. "He's out taking Penny for a walk." He stood up and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back a bit and looking out. "He should be back soon."

Gerard watched Brendon for a while, hoping for him to start speaking again and maybe answer his questions. But when he didn't, Gerard let out a small sigh and pushed his hair back. "What happened at camp?" he repeated, shifting around in his seat.

The brunette looked down and knitted his brows together. "The usual things," he said quietly, nodding and wetting his lips. "Nothing unusual... nothing out of the ordinary."

Gerard narrowed his eyes. "Then why didn't you 'turn straight'? Why did Frank?"

Brendon gave him a weak smile and held out his hands, trying to calm Gerard down before he overreacted. "Hey, hey. You have to understand. Every person is different." He walked over to the couch and plopped down, continuing to study Gerard. "Every person is different," he repeated, nodding.

Before Gerard could retort back, the front door opened. A lanky brunette walked in, then, following a black and white Boston terrier, who was trotting along contently. Brendon immediately smiled and stood up, walking over to the dog, picking it up. He kissed the side of its face and took a deep breath. "Did Penny behave, Ryan?"

Ryan laughed and closed the door. "Of course she did." He walked over and sat down on the couch. He straightened out his legs and raised up his arm, stretching. He yawned a bit. Gerard continued to watch with narrowed eyes as Brendon fell back against the couch and curled into Ryan, Penny in his lap. Gerard took a deep breath and looked ahead, clenching his jaw.

Ryan turned his head, taking note of Gerard, then. He half-smiled. "Gerard, right?" he questioned, watching him. The black-head slowly nodded, turning towards the other. Ryan smiled a bit and reached over, patting Brendon's thigh. Brendon leaned into his side, pressing his lips against his shoulder. He looked back at Gerard. "It's good seeing you. You look well." He offered him a small smile.

Gerard gave one back. "Thanks. You look…" Gerard studied Ryan carefully, right down to the stump where his arm should have been. He only nodded before letting out a "well, too." Ryan chuckled a bit, which lead Gerard to turn and stare at Brendon again. He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. "You were saying," he said, hoping the brunette would understand the hint and continue on with his explanation.

Instead, Brendon gave Gerard a confused look for a couple seconds before widening his eyes, brows raising up. "Oh!" He shook his head and laughed, sitting up straight, adjusting the Boston terrier on his lap. "I'm so sorry." He lightly thumped himself on the forehead before letting out a sigh. "Well, as I said before, people are different." Gerard nodded, urging him on. Brendon glanced at him before extending a hand, gesturing. "At reparative therapy camps, their goal and mission is to turn gay, little boys into tough, manly men. Unfortunately for them, sometimes they don't quite accomplish that." He motioned at himself and then at Ryan, who smiled. Brendon continued, "They try and accomplish this by making their… participants, or, in other words, the boys, go through a series of therapy sessions. Depending on the boy, these therapy sessions can range from electric shocks and nausea-inducing drugs.

"When you first come to the camp, they attempt to strive for excellence by first pinning stickers to the boys' skin and shocking them with little pinpricks of electricity while showing various clips of porn—gay and straight. During the gay porn clips, however, they get shocked. This is apparently supposed to give others the message that what they 'believe they are' is wrong." Brendon rolled his eyes. "This type of therapy doesn't always work.

"When boys show no progress, they switch to the nausea-inducing drugs. The same routine goes on—the gay porn clips and whatnot—but instead of the shocks, they stick a needle into you and inject you with icky stuff that makes you sick." Brendon scrunched his face, shaking his head. Ryan reached over and set a hand on his arm, rubbing and squeezing it. Brendon lowered his hand and placed it on top of Ryan's. He took a deep breath. "They believe that when the electric shocks fail, the drugs will not. And, sometimes, they seem to actually work." He studied Gerard, eyes wide. Gerard's stomach twisted into knots as he watched Brendon lower his head.

Gerard furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Wait a second, I don't understand. I thought homosexuality wasn't a choice. You were born that way. How did—" He paused and looked down. He thought over his words before wetting his lips. "How did _other boys_ think they were straight after all that?"

Brendon gave Gerard a small smile. "That's exactly the point. They _thought_ they turned straight. But, like you said, homosexuality certainly isn't a choice."


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard knew it was only a matter of time before he found himself heading back to the church.

To be fair, he had been thinking about going back for a while, ever since he had left Brendon and Ryan's place, but he never plucked up the courage. Now, he slipped into the church, past memories and feelings quickly flooding back to him. He automatically heard a booming voice, and he realized that he had entered during the finishing thoughts of the pastor's sermon. He nervously bit his lip and hurriedly found a place to sit in the back. The dark-head slowly stretched out his legs and craned his head to the side, making sure he wasn't touching the person's feet who was seated in front of him.

The sermon concluded, and, with that, the patrons stood up and made their way to the front doors. Gerard turned his head and watched as they filed out, remembering all too well the last time he left those doors. He shook his head and pushed away all negative thoughts as he navigated through the crowd, heading towards the room that was off to the side. He knew this room all too well, for he taught his own, simplified, sermons.

He poked his head through the doorway only to immediately shrink back. A lesson was in progress, and the room was filled with eager children ranging from the ages of four to ten, it seemed. Gerard watched with a careful eye before sweeping the room and looking towards the front, where a petite woman stood. She had flyaway brunette hair, and she was gesturing wildly with her hands. She had a small voice which matched her body type to a T, but her use of the voice made it all the more fascinating. She held the children's attention, which intrigued Gerard. He had never been able to hold their attention for a whole lesson. He often had to stop and change the plan—which mostly brought on tons of arts and crafts. The children were pleased, and he figured the parents would be, too.

Before he knew it, Gerard was toppled back by a flood of children, all who were racing for the door. His eyes widened, and he jumped back before more children came through. He pressed against the wall and watched everyone. He turned his head and saw as each of them went over to their parents, who had lingered after the sermon ended. They ran into their mother and father's arms and hugged them tightly. Gerard blinked and pushed himself off of the wall and ran a hand through his hair. One mother lifted up her head and stared at Gerard. She studied him for a couple seconds before widening her eyes. She straightened up and nudged her husband, who was carrying their daughter. The husband glanced at her and furrowed his brow. "What?" he asked, to which the mother raised up on her tip-toes and pressed her mouth to his ear. She muttered underneath her breath, and the father's eyes narrowed. He looked over in Gerard's direction and stared.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

He soon felt a hand grab his arm, making him jump. He turned his head sharply, expecting another parent who had recognized him, only to find the brunette standing beside him. She studied him carefully and pulled her hand back. "Hello? Can I help you with something?"

Gerard wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak. He paused, then, and nervously bit his lip. He dropped his own hands and shook his head a bit. "I just… I just wanted to ask you something."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Are you the new youth pastor?"

She smiled, then, and nodded. "Yes, I am. I haven't been here very long, though. I just started a couple months ago."

Gerard furrowed his brow. "Who was the youth pastor before you?"

She stepped back and thought for a second. "Father Armstrong never really specified who was. I was in the church choir, and I regularly attended church when he went up and asked me if I would accept the job. I don't have any younger brothers or sisters, so I wouldn't know who the youth minister was." She stared at Gerard and shrugged. "Why are you asking?"

Gerard raised up a hand and scratched at his neck, almost feeling the starchy collar of his uniform. He shook his head and merely shrugged a shoulder. "Just wondering is all." She seemed too young to know anything about me, he thought. Why rouse her up with suspicious thoughts?

The woman nodded and smiled again. "Well, I'm Sister Spektor." She held out her hand, and Gerard took it and pressed the pad of his thumb into her skin. She shook his hand and pulled her hand back. "If you have any another questions, feel free to talk to me." She waved a hand and turned on her heel, heading back into the classroom, the faint hum of "Jesus Loves Me" coming from her throat.

Gerard smiled a bit and turned on his heel. He made his way towards the front door, his troubling thought leaving him. He was soon stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder. He furrowed his brow and turned on the spot. His expression immediately softened, and he smiled. "Father Armstrong."

The pastor smiled back at Gerard and squeezed his shoulder. "It's good seeing you here, Minister Way." He reached for the other's hand and gripped it. He ran his thumb across his knuckles. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to stop by."

Gerard studied the Father, to the age spots on his hands to the flecks of gray in his hair. He smiled himself and squeezed his hand back. "It's good seeing you, too. You haven't aged a day." He laughed a bit and sighed. "I was released a couple weeks ago, Father. I've been trying to settle back in."

Father Armstrong narrowed his eyes at Gerard and shook his head. "Don't try to butter me up, son." He soon lost his demeanor and laughed. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Take as long as you need. I'd imagine transitioning will be a challenge."

He locked his jaw and nodded once. "You have no idea, Father." He shook his head and lowered his hands. "But I'm managing."

"That's wonderful. Good to hear." He turned and started towards the front of the chapel, hands behind his back. Gerard studied him and blinked a few times. He soon shook his head and turned on his heel, hurrying after him. "Hey, Father Armstrong, wait. Can I ask you something?"

The Father stopped and slowly turned, looking over at Gerard. He nodded and knitted his brows together. "Yes, you may."

He stared at the other for a second before taking a deep breath. "I was just wondering, well." He looked off to the side, towards his old classroom.

"I'm afraid I can't give your old job back to you."

Gerard looked back over and was met with Father Armstrong's frown. He shook his head again and waved a hand. "That's not it. I just, well, I was just wondering if you needed any help around here. I know I can't really come back to work, due to the fact that a couple people have recognized me." He narrowed his eyes at the thought. "I just, I just feel bad leaving the church for good. I think helping out will be good for me. Yeah?" He studied the other, giving a smile for some encouragement.

The Father looked at Gerard carefully before smiling himself. "Of course you can. I'd hate to turn you away. You were always a good contribution to the church. Well… Until—"

Gerard held up a hand to silence him. "You don't have to say anything more, Father Armstrong. That will never happen again."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm glad to hear that, Gerard." He studied the noirette before slowly nodding. "You can come back for Sunday's morning worship. We might need some extra help then." He turned and started back to the front of the chapel.

Gerard slowly smiled and nodded. "Alright. Thanks again, Father Armstrong." The Father merely raised up a hand and waved it. Gerard turned and started back to the doors of the church. He pushed open the door and slipped out, only to stumble backwards, due to someone running into him. His eyes widened, and he looked down, seeing the last person who had wanted to see.

He roughly swallowed and looked ahead. "Hello, Frank."

The shorter straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hello, Gerard."

The two stayed there for a moment or two, keeping quiet and their gazes ahead. Soon, however, Frank cleared his throat. "Can I get through?"

"Sure."

Gerard stepped aside and looked right back ahead. He could feel Frank study him before he stepped into the church. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He bit his lip and turned away, walking down the street and away from the church.


	5. Chapter 5

There was the faint sound of music playing throughout the small house. It was of a piano, and there was a hum mixed along with it. Frank slowly turned his head and looked into the hallway, furrowing his brow. He hadn't heard their piano play in years. Not since his mother had gotten sick.

Frank pushed his hair back and headed down the hallway, turning into the living room. He smiled softly and walked over to the piano, where his mother was stationed. "Hey there."

Thin and fragile-looking, Linda looked over at her son and lifted her hands from the keys. She gave him a weak smile. "Hey, Frankie," she said softly, sitting up straighter.

He watched her carefully and tapped the surface of the instrument. "Haven't heard this thing in a while."

Linda smiled and nodded. "Thought I should bring some life back into this house." She laid her hands on the keys and slowly started to pick up the tune she had left off with. Frank watched her carefully before walking around and sitting down on the bench. Linda glanced at him before sliding over a bit, making room. She half-smiled and tilted her head to the side. "What are your plans for tonight?" she asked quietly.

He chewed on his lip and reached out hand, touching his mother's wrist. He wrapped his fingers around it. "I was thinking about heading out to church." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's about that time."

She turned her head and studied Frank. She looked back down and stretched out her fingers against the keys. "I appreciate how much you've been trying to improve these past few years. I really do. But." She paused and looked back over at Frank. "Sometimes I think you're trying too hard."

He immediately narrowed his eyes. He cocked his head and looked over at his mother, squeezing her wrist. "I'm trying too hard," he repeated, slowly nodding.

Linda watched him and slowly began to frown. She pulled her wrist out of his grip and waved him away. "I'm just being silly again." She placed her hands on the keys and prodded at them, music emanating from within the instrument. Frank studied her and knitted his brow, frowning some more. He turned his head and faced front, staring at the piano.

"Where's Dad?" he asked quietly, hoping to change the subject and get a rise out of her.

She let a tired sigh slip from her lips, and she placed her hands in her lap. She curled her fingers and looked over at Frank. She gave him a smile. "Still at the shop. You know him." She shook her head and dropped her gaze.

"Does he need any help?"

Linda shook her head and reached out a hand, placing it on Frank's arm. "Don't feel obligated to help out, Frank. I appreciate how considerate you've been now, but don't let all this consume you."

Frank kept quiet for a few seconds and looked down, staring at his own hands. "I don't want Dad to overwork himself."

She turned her head and studied Frank. She softly smiled and placed her hand on top of her son's. She clasped them and began to shake her head. "Don't think that. He's fine." She glanced at the clock. "Better hurry," she reminded him, nodding at the device. Frank slowly turned his head and stared at the clock, narrowing his eyes. Linda sighed again and shook her head. "I'll be fine." She poked at a key. "Promise."

Frank gave her one last look before kissing her bony cheek and leaving the house.

 

The frigid air made Frank tighten his grip on his jacket. He bit on his bottom lip, already feeling the skin crack under his touch. He looked on ahead, seeing the church in sight. He felt a smile grow on his face. Ever since leaving the reparative camp two decades ago, Frank had been living his life easily with virtually no complications. Other than the fact he had to basically drop everything and help take care of his mother, everything was relatively easy.

Well, of course, the last meeting with Gerard wasn't.

He had been planning to break all connection with Gerard as soon as he could. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to. No, no. He certainly didn't want to. His camp counselors felt Frank had to separate himself from all negative things in his life as soon as he left the camp setting. Gerard and Brendon had to be eliminated. Getting rid of Brendon was easy. A couple of missed phone calls, only to reply with "oh, we _really_ need to hang out sometime", to never showing up, and, inevitably, losing a friend. Brendon didn't seem to complain any or force to meet up with Frank. Maybe he had already known what was going on.

But Gerard… Gerard was difficult.

Frank knew that if his behavior had changed during his visits with Gerard, the other would most certainly cause uproar and demand answers. Prison didn't do very well at making a person patient. No, Frank knew that if he was going to end his relationship with Gerard, then he would have to do it spontaneously—with no warning or apparent reason. Though, after the deed was done, a feeling of guilt settled in Frank's stomach. How would Gerard feel if he woke up one day, looking forward to his daily visit from Frank, only to wait the whole day for a visitor that would never come? He decided that what he had done was unfair, but he knew he couldn't go back.

He never thought about what he would do when Gerard was released. That raised a whole new problem. In the back of his mind, Frank knew Gerard would look for him. If he was in Gerard's shoes, he would search, too. It seemed to be the only reasonable explanation. Gerard obviously wanted answers, and after being cooped up in a building for twenty years to be released in unknown territory, it was natural to go looking for the one person who had made him feel loved, feel safe. He just hadn't anticipated for the first encounter to go the way it did.

Gerard thought Frank wanted nothing to do with him when he had first seen him. But it was the exact opposite. Frank wanted _everything_ to do with him, but he just _couldn't_. He was having regular therapy sessions with Stefani, and he knew if there was any inappropriate behavior or anything that raised a red flag would be reported back to the camp. Frank certainly didn't doubt that a thirty-six-year-old couldn't be shipped back. He didn't want to take that chance. So, now, he had hoped that Gerard would accept his offer of friendship. But, of course, he had declined.

How couldn't he see that he was pathetically desperate to remain friends with Gerard? He still wanted to keep in contact with him. He still wanted to see him on a regular basis. He still wanted to be near him, even if it caused him pain. He knew it was a mutual feeling. Frank had regained a better sense of self-worth through the camp and realized how much God could do in his life, but that didn't necessarily mean that he couldn't long for an ending that allowed him to crawl into bed at the end of the day with the man he loved, could it?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself as he looked down at his feet and continued his march to the church. He paid no attention to the crowd already filing out as he bumped his shoulder into the arm of the man who he had been thinking about the whole way there. He looked up at Gerard with wide eyes and roughly swallowed.

"Hello, Frank."

Frank straightened up at the sound of his name and crossed his arms over his chest. "Hello, Gerard."

Silence hung in the air between them, but Frank didn't dare break it. He stared at Gerard with narrowed eyes, wanting to pierce open his skull and read his brain, find out what he was thinking. Soon, though, he cleared his throat and shook his head. "Can I get through?"

Gerard slowly nodded and stepped aside. "Sure." He kept his gaze ahead, and Frank wondered if he was thinking, too. He studied him as he stepped inside, turning on his heel immediately upon entering. He bit his lip and reframed from shouting out as Gerard left, turning and leaving the church building. Frank curled his fingers against his arm and tilted his head, watching the thin man head down the street. He frowned and looked over, reaching out a hand and grabbing the door handle. He shut it behind him.

Frank felt it was the time for a confession.


End file.
